Chapter 3:   

 The Green Car

As Clara finished getting ready for work, her routine motions felt hollow, like she was merely going through the motions of a life drained of excitement or promise. Her thoughts drifted briefly to the note from last night—a stark reminder of something she had tried to bury. It was a tangible representation of a promise she had once made to herself, a promise that now felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her. Overwhelmed by a surge of memories and emotions, she stormed over to the fridge, ripped the note off in frustration, and tossed it into the trash with a decisive motion, as if casting away a part of herself she no longer wanted to acknowledge.

Stepping outside, the crisp morning air did little to shake the unease settling in her chest. She climbed into her green car and turned the key in the ignition, expecting the comforting roar of the engine. Instead, she was met with a disheartening silence. Confused, she twisted the key again, but the engine sputtered weakly, confirming her suspicion—there was no gas.

As she was about to unbuckle her seatbelt and seek help, an unsettling sensation crept over her. A strange, coarse fabric, garish in its familiarity, tightened suddenly around her neck, constricting with a force that felt almost alive. The sudden pressure stole her breath and an overpowering sickly sweet scent filled her nostrils, making the edges of her vision blur. She clawed frantically at the fabric, but her fingers fumbled helplessly against its unyielding grip. Darkness spiraled around her, and she succumbed to unconsciousness.

When Clara stirred awake, a creeping dread spread through her. The oppressive darkness of the room pressed in on her, amplifying her fear and disorientation. Her wrists and ankles were bound with cold, biting chains that dug into her skin. Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The stale, suffocating air filled her lungs, and her breath came in quick, panicked gasps. Her skin prickled with sweat as she fought the urge to scream, reminding herself to stay calm. Her eyes darted around, but the shadows stretched endlessly, denying her any glimpse of where she was.

Just as her panic threatened to overwhelm her, a voice pierced the silence—cold and taunting, like ice laced with honey.

“Well, that was a good sleep. I could tell you enjoyed it.”

The voice slithered through the darkness, sending icy tendrils of fear down her spine. It was mocking, sinister, and carried an unsettling edge. Clara strained her ears, desperate to pinpoint its source, but the darkness only amplified her isolation. Her mind raced with questions and dread, but the suffocating blackness seemed to have paralyzed her. The unseen presence lingered just beyond her reach, a chill in the air warning her that she was not alone.

“Come out! You can’t just leave me in the dark! Show yourself!” Clara shouted, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound brave.

Her words hung in the silence, broken only by her rapid breathing and the thunderous pounding of her heartbeat.

Suddenly, something—or someone—brushed against her fingers. A wave of panic surged through her, freezing her in place. Summoning the last scraps of her courage, she yanked her hand away and screamed into the darkness,

“Let me go! I’m innocent!”

“Liar!”

The single word, filled with venomous anger, pierced her like a dagger. Clara’s heart raced as recognition dawned. She knew that voice.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this? Let me see you!” she demanded, her voice cracking under her fear.

A figure stepped closer, their calm yet steely demeanor stifling her frantic tone. Their presence radiated authority,

and their words sent shivers down her spine.

“You dare to give me orders? You haven’t changed at all, Serena.”

At the mention of the name, Clara’s breath hitched. As the chains binding her wrists and ankles loosened and finally released her, a mix of relief and confusion flooded her senses.

She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in shock, and a gasp escaped her lips.

“Mallory?”

The figure smiled, their tone dripping with dark amusement.

“Hello, Serena. It’s been a while.”

Clara’s shock wasn’t just because her captor was someone she knew—It was because that someone was her ex-fiancée.